No Backward Glances: Part Two
by Why Fireflies Flash
Summary: "Theresa, we must go." He looked her straight in the eyes. Theresa stared at him in disbelief as she gathered her skirts. What he was asking her, confused her, but it would be a lie if she said it hadn't crossed her mind. She said that she would follow everywhere he led, but did she actually mean it? Highly recommended to read Part One first. Erik/OC
1. Ave Maria

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or any version of it. However, I do own my OCs such as Theresa, Jean, & Josef, and the plot of my story.**

**Summary: "Theresa, we must go." He looked her straight in the eyes. Theresa stared at him in disbelief as she gathered her skirts. What he was asking her, confused her, but it would be a lie if she said it hadn't crossed her mind. She said that she would follow everywhere he led, but did she actually mean it? Highly recommended to read Part One first. Erik/OC Meg/OC **

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**Part Two**

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_Chapter I: The Show Must Go On_

She stood in the centre of the stage, her head looking down as the candles lit around her had shed some light onto her. A frown was on her face, deepened as the silence in the Opera House was becoming deafening to her. Monsieur Reyer tapped his baton against the stand and it brought Theresa Baccelli's eyes up. He gave her a solemn look and then with a wave of his baton he cued for the piano to start, playing a melody that she hadn't heard since her mother's funeral.

Theresa closed her eyes before she allowed the music to move her. It swayed her and once she opened her mouth she felt tears prick her eyes.

"_Ave Maria_

_Gratia plena_

_Maria, gratia plena_

_Maria, gratia plena_

_Ave, ave dominus_

_Dominus tecum"_

Blinking, Theresa paused, hearing the violins play alongside of the piano. During her small pause, she dared herself to glance up at Box 5, but at the mere thought of it, she shuddered and continued on with the next verse.

"_Benedictus tu in muli eribus_

_Et benedictus_

_Et benedictus fructus ventris_

_Ventris tuau, Jesus_

_Ave Maria."_

Soft voices came onto the stage with her, singing 'Ave Maria'. Theresa forced herself taking a step back and keeping her chin up strongly as her hazel eyes scanned her audience. She didn't know who she was looking for exactly, but she knew that any of the people that she was looking for wouldn't be sitting in the audience—they would never be in an audience again, not even _him_.

It was just as they rehearsed for the gala held for the tenor who had just recently passed. The chosen actors and actresses were striped of their usual makeup and dressed in plain, white costumes. The final act did not have ballerinas trotting across the stage, doing a grand jeté or a pirouette. It wasn't a romantic song, it wasn't a joyous song, it wasn't the song that one would sing for the Christmas holidays like usually, it was a song—a prayer, more like it, of mourning.

Or that was what Theresa was treating it as, a song of mourning. Josef, the new lead tenor of the _Opera_ _Populaire_ stepped out and walked to Theresa's side. She turned inwardly toward him as he offered her both of his hands. Theresa and Josef weren't close before Henri's death, but now, the two had worked together more closely and she could call him a friend of hers.

She gripped both of his hands tightly as they sang together, Theresa's soprano voice being belted out as Josef's tenor voice tried to overpower her. Though, it seemed like a battle for dominance, it wasn't translated like that through the audience. Their voices harmonized as it carried through.

"_Ave Maria_

_Mater Dei_

_Ora pro nobis peccatoribus_

_Ora, ora pro nobis_

_Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus_

_Nunc et in hora mortis_

_Et in hora mortis nostrae_

_Et in hora mortis nostrae_

_Et in hora mortis nostrae."_

Josef and Theresa were locked in each other's gaze as the music softened. Theresa tried her best to hold back a teary smile, but Josef nodded to her subtly. Then with her teary smile allowed, Theresa turned toward the audience with one of her hands still gripping Josef's tightly.

"_Ave Maria."_

The final note hung over the audience for several moments before several members of the audience stood up. Theresa felt an unfamiliar swelling in her chest as she looked around the crowd, clapping for her and Josef's performance. They both bowed their heads. Josef's hand slipped from hers and Theresa crossed her arms over her chest as she curtsied in front of them. She took several steps back to join the rest of the company and as they all lined up, Theresa found herself standing next to Meg, whom she hadn't spoken to in ages.

The company of the _Opera Populaire _bowed together in unison and just as she dared herself to do before, Theresa raised her eyes to the 'empty' Box 5. She didn't know if she would expect him to be there, she didn't know if she should hope that he was, but her unfamiliar swelling in her chest settled when sure enough, she saw the silhouette.

Meg pulled on her hand as they all took a step back. Theresa had to tear her eyes away from Box 5 and follow the rest of the company. She watched as the velvet, red curtain was being lowered and how the curtain separated her from her audience. "You sang beautifully." Meg said to her gently. Theresa stood where she was, not thanking her, nor really saying anything anyway. She didn't know what to say. Theresa felt one of her hands being let go, but Meg still held onto her.

The claps on the other side of the curtain did not falter or fade. Meg added to her, "Theresa, I am sure Henri smiled at every bit of your song." The corners of Theresa's mouth pulled up slightly and she looked over at Meg. She knew that wasn't true, but she could pretend that it was, right? Henri would not smile at her duet with Josef. She knew that too well. Meg smiled at her sweetly, "Let me bring you to your room."

Theresa nodded to her stiffly, holding back the water in her eyes as she allowed Meg to take her arm and lead her away from the curtain. However, Meg and her stopped halfway through when Madame Giry and the patron of the Opera House stepped toward them. Jean looked slightly weary as he stood before them both and Madame Giry looked heated. "I'm afraid not, mademoiselle. The audience would like an encore." Madame Giry said to Theresa.

"But maman, Theresa cannot—."

She cut off her daughter swiftly, "Meg, please, we all know about the relationship Signora Baccelli had with Monsieur D'Aubigne but that should not stop her from doing what she is paid to do. The audience wants what they want." Her voice was firm as she spoke, her blue eyes nearly cutting her with a knife. She looked to Theresa and Theresa picked up her head. Her blue eyes told her everything she needed to know and Theresa knew what she must do.

"I object to this," Jean said to Madame Giry. "Signora Baccelli is in no shape to give her encore. She barely has had time to mourn Monsieur D'Aubigne's death because she had to _prepare_ for this goddamn gala that the managers had to have!"

"That may be so, but she knew from the start of this gala that she wouldn't. It was her idea after all, Monsieur Fortescue, to sing in it." Madame Giry told him without looking his way.

Jean shook his head angrily, not really sure of what to say to the older woman however. "At least allow her some time to mourn." He tried to say evenly.

"I will have plenty of time to mourn afterward." Theresa said to him, her small smile disappearing from before as she tilted her chin up. Her hazel eyes, though slightly glazed, looked at Madame Giry differently. They both knew the truth. Theresa mourned plenty enough already, and though sad about the lead tenor's death, she didn't even want to let her mind stray to Henri. She would feel the familiar guilt she felt if she continued to mourn him, she would hear the exact words he said to her before he released his last breath she would remember the blood that was on her hands as she held him.

She had Henri's blood on her hands that she would never be able to wash off. She moved her arm out of Meg's grasp, earning her questionable expressions from her two friends. Meg said to her softly, "You do not have to do this, Theresa."

"Madame Giry is right," Theresa said, glancing over to Meg as she made her way to the centre of the stage. She murmured as she faced forward, "I have to." Meg and Jean stood together before they both stalked off stage. Instead of gesturing toward the stagehands to move the curtain back up, she walked to Theresa.

Theresa nearly flinched away as she felt Madame Giry move a piece of her hair behind her and fixed the fake tiara on the top of her head so that it was more in the centre. Theresa had cast her eyes downward. "He will be waiting for you in your room, Theresa."

"I know." Theresa stated. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, was always there, watching her. She could always count on that. Her expression was held strongly as Madame Giry brushed her hair off of her shoulder.

"One life is lost due to him," Madame Giry said to her. Theresa tried her best to not snap at the older woman. She knew that all too well, why did she have to repeat what she knew? "Another may follow, do you still not think yourself naïve for following his way?" Theresa tried to pretend that her words did not faze her. She followed his way though because she had no other choice but to follow his way.

She told Madame Giry, "You were not there that night. You barely know of what had happened between us three."

"Erik has told me plenty of it," Madame Giry stated, before removing her hand from Theresa and taking a step back. "Be reminded that you are not his only friend in the Opera House. I care for you, Theresa, but I think your decision is unwise."

"I was never known to be wise, Madame Giry." Theresa said to her without any hesitation. "Now, I would like to tend to my audience." Madame Giry stared at Theresa in disbelief as she stood her ground. Theresa did her best to not allow her jaw to clench as Madame Giry nodded her head. She gave a slight 'thank you' before turning toward the curtain.

The curtain slowly rose up, revealing her familiar audience, who still stood awaiting her. Theresa gave them all a smile before looking to a surprised Reyer. She clasped her hands before her before nodding to him to give the encore they had practiced. The sound of the baton forced many of her audience to take their seats again and it forced Theresa to stop seeing the images of the night Henri died before he eyes. She glanced up at Box 5 one last time before she heard the orchestra start on their key, but she quickly looked at the audience.

In her head, she repeated, _the show must go on, _the exact words she heard Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin say before the gala to everyone. And it must, the show must go on, and Theresa must put aside the thoughts and the images of Henri falling in Erik's lair, with a dagger stabbed in his abdomen. She had to put aside the image of her holding him, no matter how hard it was to erase it.

She waited a couple of measures before she started to sing with the same thought in her head, but she couldn't help but hear 'my lady' mixed with the violins playing.

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_**I'm back… did you all miss me? This is being posted a lot sooner than when I was going to post it, I honestly felt bad for making you guys wait so long for Part Two, but here it is now. And Part Two is going to be extremely different from Part One. I know I said that it would be right after Part One, rather than making a new story altogether, but then I had put some thought into it and decided that it would be its own. I also raised the rating for certain scenes in the future**_

_**Even though this was a little bit of a tease rather than a chapter, we will definitely learn what happened after Henri died when we last parted next chapter, I promise. **_

_**Hope you enjoyed the chapter and until next time!**_

_**Tiana**_

_**P.S. Don't forget to like my Facebook page for sneak peeks and info on my story! The link is on my profile and it is a fun place, trust me. I am starting a phantom blog for my English project on tumblr if you are all interested. The url is music-shall-caress-you. (Nothing is up yet though!) Hope to see you all there!**_


	2. Come What May

_Chapter II: Come What May_

As she did every night, Theresa waited for Erik in her room. It had become routine for her to wait until after everyone had gone to bed. She sat down at her vanity, her hand wiping away at her makeup with a damp washcloth. She closed her eyes for a moment before placing the washcloth gently on top of the vanity. But as she closed her eyes, all she could see was Erik from two weeks before, his hand gripping the handle of the dagger over Henri's, and twisting it as it stabbed deep within him.

She breathed in sharply before standing up from the vanity, her eyes opening slowly so that she wouldn't have to bare witness of it… again. But, really, she would never be able to get away from Henri's; she would never forget the words that he said to her as she held him. He bled to death on Erik's floor, she didn't even know how she was able to stand there afterward knowing that. She cradled him as if he were a baby.

"_I'm sorry, I… I couldn't…_" He had started to say to her before she shushed him quietly. Theresa could still feel the tears stream from her eyes. She said back to him that he didn't need to apologize for anything. Theresa remembered how careful and gentle she made her voice sound. Henri had given her a slight smirk before he tried to reach up and cup her cheek. His hand had fallen weakly from her cheek before she went ahead and gripped it tightly. She held his hand to her cheek as she controlled herself from letting out a cry.

The warmth was leaving his skin as he was held close to her. She whispered to him that everything was going to be all right, that she was sorry. She was, at one point, putting her lips on top of his forehead and begging to keep holding on. The blood had gotten onto her dress and she was weeping over his body. Henri looked up at her with a smirk the entire time, she could never forget that smirk—it still haunted her as she slept.

He even uttered the words, _"I love you." _But he uttered them so quickly that they she could barely hear them. It was all in a gasp of air. However, she knew what he said and she didn't know if she had said the same to him. She could not explain her feelings from that night, not even to herself, but she did not even think about what would happen if Erik did not save himself in time, or if she hadn't cried out his name.

Would they be in the same position? Would she mourn him just as she did Henri? Would she be more upset? She did not know. She did not even know why she was remorseful for Henri's death, or even mourning him, for he was going to kill off the man that she loved when his back was turned. But when she thought of other things, other than that night, she found that his presence around her was something that she missed, truly missed. There was no one that would keep her on her feet like he had done, there was no one to really entertain her throughout the day, or be playful as he was with her.

She had not laughed in what seemed to be ages, and she needed was a good laugh. She missed the Henri that she met, the Henri that left an awful poem in her room to ask her to dinner, the Henri that she held hands with under the table. She missed _him_.

After Henri's death that night, Theresa stayed on Erik's swan bed with her hands out and covered in blood. Erik had taken care of how he was to be presented and the story he gave Madame Giry to tell the managers of where she had been.

Theresa sighed, taking a deep breath as she sat on top of her bed. Her eyes were stuck on top of the candle lit on top of her vanity as she patiently waited for Erik. She did not know why she found herself not wanting to go tonight, but a part of her wanted to see him. Theresa's head snapped over to the mirror when she heard it being opened. She stood up immediately from her bed to greet him, but she had noticed that Erik did not go over to her right away. Theresa nervously twiddled with her hands in front of her.

Then Erik stepped out of the mirror, leaving it slightly open. His cape followed him as he walked and his white mask was slightly lit up by the candles around her room. He did not speak with her, as he usually did. His green eyes danced with something of pride and when he approached her, he only held out his hand for her to grab within his. She didn't hesitate placing her hand there and she allowed for him to bring her away from her room.

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"These are beautiful," Theresa mused, standing in Erik's lair. For once she smiled that day as she held one of his paintings by the candlelight. She watched as the light danced against the red, gold, and brown paint that was against the paper. Erik, who had taken off his cape and dressed more casually, looked up from his desk. He enjoyed having Theresa accompany him for the night, she always had something to say to him and when she was quiet, perhaps only reading a book beside him, it was comfortable for him. "Not only do you have talent in music, you are quite the artist. How long have you known how to paint?"

"One does not simply need to know how," Erik stated to her with a coy smile. "It is what they do with it."

"Have you ever thought about selling some of these?" Theresa asked him curiously setting the painting she had down where she had found it. Theresa skimmed her hand along the others, stopping when she saw one of Christine looking back at her. She frowned at that and felt something bubble within her as she saw Theresa's doe-like, brown eyes stare back at her. She moved a painting over that one, one that had several graves, a mausoleum in its centre, and snow falling around the said mausoleum. She did not pay attention to the name set in the mausoleum's stone.

The question made Erik raise both his eyebrows at her. "My paintings do not need to be sold, nor do I think any of them would be bought. It is only a way to pass the time."

"Yes… I suppose one day you will consider painting me." Theresa said to him nonchalantly, setting the other painting down. She furrowed her brow down at the painting before taking a slow breath and closing her eyes. Erik heard something in her tone that made him falter in his writing; there was something in her tone that did not settle right with him. "I think I shall make some tea." Theresa told him, feigning a smile.

She still had thoughts from earlier in the night, thoughts that she would rather not have in her head. Maybe it was because of the gala… maybe she had too many thoughts of Henri. In four days they were to start on the performances that Henri had the lead in it. They had to rehearse Josef, who was the understudy for Henri's role, beforehand. Theresa did not feel right about this at all. She had told the managers that she thought it would be wise to not do something that Henri was supposed to be a part of, but they did not listen to her. Instead, they had said that they it wouldn't be wise and that everything still had to go on accordingly.

Tomorrow was Henri's wake, the next day was his funeral, and after that she had to endure two days of dress rehearsals for the opera. Were they just going to forget of the tenor like he was not vital to their cast? Why did they have to do the same opera that he was going to be in? Theresa did not understand, nor did she want to.

Erik watched as Theresa disappeared from where she was, heading to his makeshift kitchen. He stared forward for a moment, feeling himself clueless before rising up and following her. He had walked to far enough to see Theresa standing over the hearth, carefully pouring water into a pot. "Is there something wrong?" He asked her cautiously.

Theresa shook her head no stiffly, concentrating on what she was doing; however, she stopped herself once she felt hands on top of her shoulders. Theresa slowly set down the pot, not putting it over any sort of heat so the water would boil and looked down at Erik's bare hand. She took in a slow breath before glancing behind her shoulder. His thumbs rubbed her shoulders thoughtfully before she turned around. "There must be something wrong because I recall you not enjoying tea."

Despite wanting to tell him the truth, she knew she was better off lying to him. She gave him gentle smile before stating, "Nothing is wrong."

"There is something in your voice that's telling me otherwise." Erik informed her. Theresa tried to look away from his eyes, knowing full well that if she looked into them for a long amount of time she would spill out the truth. Erik looked her over carefully, his hands now moving from her shoulders to rub the length of both of her arms. "You have done well in your performance, every word that you sang hung over the audience angelically, and even if it was for that _man_ you have managed to be wonderful." Erik nearly scowled at the thought that it was all for _him_, all for the man who had stumbled in his lair, who backhanded _his_ Theresa, and who had tried to kill him. For Erik, Henri D'Aubigne, did not earn such homage he had received tonight.

Theresa dropped her small smile and frowned up at Erik. She shook her head at him and said to him, "There is no reason for you to speak of him like that, Erik. It is disrespectful."

"Disrespectful?" Erik asked her puzzled. Theresa nodded her head to him at the word, realizing just now that she should have said that. Why did she just say that? It would not go over well. "You are telling me that the truth I've stated is disrespectful?" He questioned to her.

Theresa thought for a moment, thinking that she still had time to get out of this, but instead she decided that it was best to stand for up herself in this matter. "Yes. He isn't even buried yet and you are speaking of him like is…" she paused, not finding the exact word, but as she searched for it she took his hands off of her with much effort, she did not realize how his hands gripped at her arms tightly. She didn't know if the word she would use would fit, but she said it anyway, "evil. He had died two weeks before, Erik. The least you can do is hold your comments about him until after he is buried."

"Do you need to be reminded of what he did, Theresa?" Erik nearly growled at her, feeling suddenly frustrated with how she was acting. Was she being naïve? He had thought she had grown past this. She was mostly quiet about the affair that was two weeks ago, even the day after. He did not if it was because of shock, but other than the few tears she had shed that night, there was none to come out of her eyes. Theresa nearly found herself seething; she tried to walk away from Erik, crossing her arms over her chest before he spoke again. "He had _hurt_ you and had almost _killed_ me, and yet you are standing before me and defending those actions!"

Theresa stopped in her place with that in mind as Erik walked up behind her. "I am not defending what he did." She said to him, but she did not turn her head to look at him. Theresa didn't know if she could look at him. She knew that his jaw would be clenched and that his eyes were narrowed, she knew that his white mask would look more menacing than it usually did. She did not need his intimidation for speaking her mind. "I am just saying that because he is not buried or anything, you should not speak of him as that. It's disrespectful and too soon."

"Too soon for whom?" Erik articulated the question carefully. "_You_?" Theresa found herself swallowing thickly at that and she closed her eyes. "Look at me, Theresa." Theresa hesitated, hearing his tone not be gentle as it was at times. She heard the familiar tremble in his voice that made her shiver. It would be a lie to say that she didn't fear him in the slightest, for she did. Theresa always feared him a bit, and though the fear had lessened greatly since they first met, she did know that it might not ever disappear.

Erik had two sides of him. One of them was the side that had killed men and allowed him to linger around the Opera House, who patronized the stage workers and the managers. And the other was the other side that she liked, the gentler side, and the side that she had touched a multiple amount of times. Erik was loving and kind; he was caring even when he did not know how to express it.

Right now? This was not the side that she enjoyed of him. Though she did not want to turn around and face him, see the look in his eye that she deemed before to be menacing, she eventually did. She breathed in evenly as his light green eyes danced with flames inside of them. "I care less of him. The drunk is probably rotting somewhere right now and yet you actually feel remorse for him."

"Anyone would in my position." She admitted to him. Theresa gathered some courage within her as she said through her teeth to Erik, "It is not my fault that you do not feel the same. He was a friend to me and I often do not dwell on that day. In fact, if I do remember him it is from before that day."

"As I've said, I do not care for him," was his reply. Theresa did not expect him to say anything else. She turned her face away from him to walk away from him, to go back to her room without his company. She knew the way to her room now perfectly and she did not need him. Theresa felt like she would rather not be in his presence. However, Erik gripped her wrist tightly to stop her from going. "You dare walk away from me when clearly we aren't finished?" His grip around her wrist was tight and Theresa tried to ignore it.

She gritted her teeth before turning her head toward him, "_Abbiamo finito_. We had just come to the conclusion that I cared for Henri, and you did not. We will never go past that. So, _sono staco_ and would want to retire in my room. Can you please let me go, _amore mio_?"

"You do not want to stay tonight?" He questioned with her, his voice dropping to a soft tone. He did not comply with her request, but he did loosen his grip.

Theresa shook her head no to him. "I'd rather go to bed than to argue."

"You'd rather go to bed angry? There is more to this then you caring for him, Theresa." Erik had started, still not letting go of her wrist so she could leave him be. "There is another reason why you are troubled over his death other than you grieving it."

"Is it that hard to believe what I have said? I told you, I cared for him and that is that." She also had to carry out a lie that he didn't kill himself with everyone else in the Opera House. She had to look people in the eye tomorrow and act like she was an innocent who was going through a tragedy. She didn't know if she was ready to do that. She knew she wasn't, actually. How did Erik see that there was something else behind this? Not only did she care for Henri, but also she had to keep his death a secret.

He saw right through her. She felt herself almost falter under his gaze before she sighed deeply, "And tomorrow I am going to have to face many people who think that he has died by his own doing… I don't think I would be able to do that, Erik."

"And that is what you are worried of? Facing all of those people?" Erik asked her, sounding less frustrated with her. "Mon chérie, you needn't to worry about that." Theresa turned her head away from him as Erik reached to caress her cheek. She took slow breaths as Erik stared at her, his face nearly contorting in disbelief that she had the nerve to turn her face away from him. Once she felt her wrist fall from his hold, Theresa was tempted to do as she was just doing before he stopped her. However, she felt that she couldn't.

Erik and her were silent for a moment before Theresa said, "I will… I will make that tea now." When she went to go make it, Erik shook his head at her, but didn't stop her as she walked back to the kettle. Erik stood there in thought for a moment, going over what he just said to her in his head. He was not used to… _this._ He did not know what to say to her at times, and this was one of those times. There were times where they both enjoyed each other's company, there were other times were one of them felt uncomfortable with one another, and there were a few times that he could recount them _both_ fearing each other.

He feared her. He did not want her to leave, no matter how many times she frustrated him. He _feared_ her leaving him and at times, he didn't want to bring her back to her room in case she would never _want_ to come back. She was _his_. He _had_ her. Erik did not know if she would be his forever, nor did he know if she thought of him the same way he did with her. She told him she loved him, he told her many more times the same.

He watched her for a moment, noticing that she wasn't doing what she said. Instead, she was staring at the wall with her hand curled around the handle of the kettle. Her eyes were blank. He blinked, glancing down at his hand and thought for a moment how tightly he gripped at her wrist before, how threatening his voice had sound. He might have feared her, but he did not want her to fear him. Erik moved toward her slowly, carefully watching her as she snapped out of her small stupor to go through with making her tea, but stopped again when she felt Erik's hands land on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes as she felt him rub her shoulder, the kettle of water almost falling out of her grip as she felt him lean against her. Theresa tried to make her breathing even, but she found it difficult as he pushed the hair out of her face and allowed his lips to touch her ear as they pressed against it. He murmured to her, "I was insensitive before. Forgive me."

Theresa leaned her head against her before he turned her around. She made sure to gently place the kettle down as he did this and she felt his shaky hands skim over her arms now. Theresa however kept her eyes closed, feeling his soft lips touch her forehead and then touch the temple of her eye. She nodded her head softly. She always forgave him. No matter what, she always forgave him. His lips grazed her cheek, making Theresa lean into them to capture them against her own, however the touch of his lips soon disappeared. "Tea is no longer needed."

Theresa furrowed her brow at him as he went to dump the kettle of cold water. She didn't understand what was that to mean. "Sorry?"

"I've had your tea before. You can't make it." Erik stated to her simply with a smirk to himself. Theresa sucked in both of her cheeks as she watched, biting her tongue to try and not retort back to him. However, she smirked back at him. She walked slowly up to him and stopped at his side. Erik gave her a sideways glance before turning fully toward her. He looked at her carefully, "You will be fine tomorrow."

The smirk immediately fell off and she wished that this subject were long forgotten. "Will it be?"

"It will." Erik reached up and Theresa raised her brow as he went behind his neck. She swallowed thickly before she watched as Erik unlatched her father's cross from behind and then gestured for her to turn around. Theresa had given him that a while ago, and he still kept it there? She did just as he gestured and turned around, onto to feel the cross touch the base of her neck. Its weight on her felt familiar and she closed her eyes as her hand covered it. Her father's cross was inches away from her heart, just as it used to be. He repeated to her then the words that she had once said to him, "After something bad has happened, something good is close by."

Theresa's eyes fluttered open at that and she looked over to him, feeling her hand be gripped gently. She nodded her head slowly. "Come what may then." She replied to him slowly before letting her hand reach up to touch his exposed cheek. He knew what he was doing. He would get her mad one moment, he would make her fear her the next, and then he would make her love him shortly after.

Did she mind that he read her so easily and knew what to say to her to get her out of a mood?

Yes.

Was she going to change that?

No.

She leaned up and tilted her head slightly, going so close to him that their noses brush briefly against each other before she pressed her lips against his softly. His hand closing around hers to keep it on his cheek and she closed her eyes, feeling content as his other hand was placed on her hip reluctantly.

She didn't know what was coming their way; she almost didn't want to know. Henri's wake and funeral were over these next two days, the performances of the opera that she didn't want to be a part of any longer were going to begin the day after funeral, and she had to endure the rest of the _Opera Populaire_, knowing the secret of what happened to Henri. She didn't want to think about Henri that night and after her and Erik's discussion and after he had given her father's cross back to her, she didn't.

She stayed with Erik that night, as she did nearly every night after everyone went to sleep. She watched as Erik played and wrote his music, she watched the gondola shift in the lake, how the small waves that reflected the candlelight caressed it, and she watched as he spoke with her with carefully articulated words. Theresa asked questions about many things in his lair, like the two skull she found. She inquired about whom they belonged to… if they knew, she was only being curious. Erik glared at her for the foolish question, said he didn't know, and asked if she would be quiet while he wrote his notes, which she did.

Theresa did not argue with him and picked up a book, sitting nearby as she read to herself. She was beginning to learn more and more French as the days passed. Chef Dupant taught her up until the day Henri died.

* * *

_**This chapter was a little fluffy toward the end, there is going to be a lot of fluff between them in the beginning before we get into… you'll just see ;). Don't have much to say (shocking, right?) other than thank you to everyone that came back to follow Part II! It means a lot that you still enjoy the story! **_

_**Oh and another note for the beginning chapters, Theresa goes back to Henri's death a lot in the coming chapters. She actually is really conflicted about it, if you haven't noticed. Do you think it will affect Erik & Theresa later on? And we got a sense of Theresa's relationship with the Phantom, a relationship that is a mixture of love & fear, in both sides it. Also, Meg and Jean's relationship will be explored in the future… **_

_**I have no idea when the next chapter would be, between NaNo and college I'm going crazy. It will be not long though; I'll just figure it out when I do. If you don't follow me on Facebook, the link is on my profile and I'm starting to post a video on there every Thursday or Friday, most likely on Fridays though. I am also doing a Question & Answer thing with it, so if you guys have a question and I mean ANY question, I will answer them… All of them… so if you have a question that you want answered, this is your chance. You can do these in your reviews or comments on the video or on my tumblr page, my writing one which is the-word-of-a-firefly, it does not have to be yourself, you can do this anon on there and you can also message my Facebook a question too if you want… and that's it with that. Do I have anything else…? **_

_**OH! Did I mention my Phantom blog on here? I don't know if I did, but I'll do so now. I now have a phantom blog on tumblr, up and running. If you want to check it out, be my guest. The url is music-shall-caress-you. tumblr . com. It's a research project on why the musical is such a success on Broadway and really all over the world, if you want to follow it, you can and if you also want… here's where you guys would be awesome and amazing people because I kind of told my professor that it is possible for this… you can submit to me your personal experience about Phantom, like why you like it so much and why it has touched you as to further my point that it is a success… sort of. If you want, you don't have to do it… it would be nice… you will get mask cookies maybe… and an update also… (I'm not bribing you guys or anything (yes, yes I am)). I won't hate you guys though if you don't do it, I can never hate you. This is only optional, even when I make it seem like it isn't. You don't have to do it as yourself, you could also make it an anon if you're more comfortable with that.**_

_**Okay, I said brief and this wasn't. Damn… well, don't forget to review! I enjoy reading every one of them and I love talking to you guys whenever I can. And see you next time!**_

_**Tiana**_


	3. Wandering Thoughts

_Chapter III: Wandering Thoughts_

"Thank you, monsieur, for accompanying me," Theresa said with a slight smile as she looked over at Chef Dupant, who had a small smile on his face as well. The chef folded his large hands on top of his lap and nodded his head curtly at her. She added to him, "You really did not have to."

"Once you have told me that you would be going alone, I had to, mademoiselle." Chef Dupant explained to her, nudging her with his elbow. "You are like a daughter to me, Theresa, I cannot let you do this alone."

"But I wouldn't necessarily be—."

"Nonsense, Mon ami, you are under my watch on the way there." Chef Dupant assured her. Theresa stared at him for a moment, her smile almost faltering before she settled with a small nod to him. She really did not intend to have anyone at her side for the funeral, not even Meg or Jean. She thought it best that she would go alone. However, after the wake yesterday she told Dupant of her plan and he did not seem happy about it. So he had taken it upon himself to go with her.

He… really did not have to for her, and the fact that he was doing this really meant a lot to her. Even if she would rather be alone, knowing that her thoughts would haunt her the entire time. Maybe… just maybe… her friend would keep her mind at bay. She settled herself in the carriage next to him and just before they were about to go off, they heard someone trying to reach them, "Signora! Signora!"

Theresa raised her brow before motioning to the driver to pause as he gripped the reins. She looked beyond the carriage to see her friend, Josef, come to the carriage, nearly out of breath. Why was he out of breath? "Yes, Josef? What is it?" She asked him confused.

"You are heading to the funeral now, correct?" He asked her, still talking between breaths. She looked at him unsure before nodding her head. "Might I accompany you, too? If it's not too much trouble of course."

"Well, I do not see why not," Theresa started to answer him, shrugging her shoulders before looking over to Dupant. "Would it be alright?"

"What am I going to say? No? Come along, Monsieur Cloutier." Dupant gestured for him to join them and then with a grin of gratitude, he climbed into the carriage with them, sitting across from the pair. "One more person can't hurt. Monsieur, we are ready now!" Theresa nodded her head after him and crossed her legs politely as she felt the carriage move underneath them.

"Thank you both, really. I cannot miss this like I have done yesterday. It wouldn't be right to pay my respects to a friend." Josef said.

Theresa sighed before nodding her head to him, "We understand. We wouldn't want to be the ones to say that you cannot come with us."

Josef lowered his gaze with a subtle shake of his head. Theresa noticed the slight smile on his face as he picked it up again, but he did not say anything. He settled himself more comfortably in the seat he was in as the carriage moved and Theresa took comfort in adjusting herself as well and she found herself watching the many buildings in Paris go past them. Henri was to be buried in the town where he was from, passed down from generation to generation. It was further than she had expected, but she did understand. But she didn't think that Henri would have wanted to be in a close radius to the man that had ignored him, disrespected him, and so forth—since he was going to be buried on the property that his stepfather owned.

Yesterday, the wake went along fine. Theresa attended both that were available with the managers. Meg and Madame Giry came to the earliest one as well and were hesitant in leaving her, Meg more so, but she did not allow them to stay. The managers wanted to attend both, for some reason, so she kept them company. She avoided the gazes of everyone there and only talked with a few different people. She did not dare talk to Jeanine and Edmund, but she did see them from afar—she watched them both.

Jeanine was devastated, as expected, because she had lost her son. However, Edmond did not seem to be upset. He pulled on a face with a frown and a knitted brow of concern for his wife, but not once did he seem to actually be genuine about his sadness. Theresa was an actress. She knew when someone was feigning the truth and pulling an act.

Theresa also found his half sisters, but she did not speak to them either. Theresa remembered their names, Madeline and Amie. Madeline looked almost like their father, having his dark hair and a round-tipped nose. She was plumper than what Theresa expected, but she had beautiful eyes that she must have inherited from her mother—they were the same colour as Henri's. Amie looked like their mother; actually, Amie could have been the female version of Henri.

Amie had a smaller jaw than Henri did, however, it was a lot less square and she had a more pointed chin. Her eyes were the same as Henri's and her mother's, and her dark hair had a tinge of lightness to it. Her face was more round, while Madeline had features that were sharp.

Theresa did not observe them to see how they were taking Henri's death. She did not really want to with anyone, however, she couldn't help refraining her eyes from wandering to both Jeanine and Edmond.

She remained silent yesterday; the conversation that she allowed really was only small talk between the people she knew. Theresa did not allow the conversation to really stray on the subject of who the wake was for—she did not want to discuss him and people had gotten the hint, even the sometimes oblivious managers who she spent most of her day with.

When she had come back to the _Opera Populaire,_ it wasn't until late in the evening and she was particularly exhausted.

She immediately decided that she should retire to bed once she entered her chambers. She did not even spare a glance toward her mirror where Erik would usually hide before, thinking that she was not in the mood to really see him at that moment—or any moment during these days. Erik brought up the memories of the night for her and though sometimes he was able to take them away with a simple touch, she needed her distance.

She did stay awake in case he would come through for two hours, and saw that he wasn't coming and when she awoke the next morning there was no sign that Erik had come to her room at all.

Actually…

Confused, Theresa frowned visibly, going through this in her head. Erik didn't come to her at all last night… and if he did, why didn't he leave her anything to inform her that he was there? Though she might have not wanted him there, did he not want to comfort her in case she was upset after the wake?

"Something wrong, Theresa?" She heard Josef ask her, his voice sound concerned. Theresa did not realize how long they were all silent. She was pulled out of her thoughts to look up at him with her brow furrowed. Josef had an easy grin on his face, but she could see it falter slightly as he gestured over to her. He added, "You seem focused on something."

Theresa took a deep breath, pushing her thoughts aside. She replied, trying to sound casual and _not_ troubled, "Nothing is wrong, monsieur, I'm just deep in my thoughts."

"Monsieur? Theresa, in the past six months we have worked together you have never referred to me formally." He said, chuckling. He still sounded nervous, but his tone sounded more casual than it was before.

Theresa laughed softly, "My apologies, Josef, I wasn't thinking."

"It is quite alright."

"It's just… I've never been a fan of funerals." Theresa admitted to Josef, as if hiding the fact that she was really thinking about yesterday. She looked away from him and told him, "After my mother's I didn't think that I would need to go back to one for a long time."

"It… it is sad that this had to happen." Josef told her with a slight nod of his head. His eyes were on Theresa, watching her little movement. He noticed how stiff she had become as she cradled her head. She looked almost uncomfortable. "I didn't think he would ever… Henri was always so happy, even when he was angry."

Theresa closed her eyes and tried not to snort weakly at that. Josef had never seen Henri angry. Theresa had the night he died and saw him so distraught to see that he didn't wear that cocky grin all the time. She wished he had worn it more in his final weeks, because he hadn't. "I will miss that smile… and his smirk, most of all."

"Yes, the man always had a charming smirk up his sleeve. Never ceased to amaze me." Theresa swallowed thickly, feeling her chest slightly tighten. This was not what she wanted. She wanted her mind off of Erik, but now they were talking about Henri, which was even worse. "I remember his audition in front of André and Firmin. He commanded the whole entire theatre."

Theresa chuckled sadly, "Yes, that is Henri. He commanded the attention of nearly every room he was in." She felt eyes on top of her, coming from the man seated next to her, but she did not dare to match his gaze. Chef Dupant, though they weren't really that close, he still looked at her like he needed to take care of her. Like he was her father. His eyes when he looked at her this morning were of concern and tiredness. They still bored into her like that, but she did not want to look over at him and match them and show him something that he probably wouldn't expect.

Sadness didn't plague her eyes. It was guilt.

Josef sighed, "Great man. Talented. Charming. _Just…_ just a good friend, it's going to be difficult."

"It will be for all of us." Dupant's voice came in. "I don't think it's best that we talk about him, Josef, it's still a little bit too soon." Theresa had the urge to thank Dupant for saying something. She felt his eyes waver off of her for a moment and she took this time to take a breath. Josef looked between both Dupant and Theresa, before silently agreeing with him.

Theresa glanced over to Dupant, seeing how his eyes managed to find her. She tried her best to hide what she truly felt at that moment. With a small smile, she asked him politely, "How is your daughter, monsieur? I heard that she is betrothed?"

Dupant had a small grin on his face after the mention of his daughter. The small talk was perfect to get the subject of Henri out of the way. "Theresa, I have told you to call me Julian before, yes?" Theresa chuckled lightly before nodding her head to him, making a slight mental note to not keep to formalities with him.

"Your daughter is getting married?" Josef added to him, his tone almost sounding like he didn't believe what she had said. Julian nodded his head to him. "Well, congratulations, my good man! I did not even know that you had a daughter."

"She has visited the _Opera Populaire _before, Josef." Julian mentioned to him. Though, it did not stop him from talking about his daughter, Louise, with them. Theresa was happy that the ride to the funeral was not in complete silence and she enjoyed hearing how Josef talked about his daughter. She listened to his every word as he spoke and her mind, for that moment, did not stray on Erik or Henri for once.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Josef asked her with concern, watching her carefully as he walked up behind her. Theresa stood before Henri's grave with her brow furrowed. Her hazel eyes were red and swollen, but no tears strayed away from them. Theresa did not answer him right away, reading the inscription on top of the stone. It said:

_Here lies Henri Joseph D'Aubigne_

_Beloved son & friend_

_Rest In Peace._

Josef frowned behind her before he laid a hand on top of her shoulder. "Theresa, come with me." Theresa blinked several times, thinking of Henri's last moments again. She ignored Josef for a few more minutes, not thinking about his hand on her shoulder, as a clear vision of Henri's smirk came to view. She could still see it on him. Say whatever you would like, though they had their moments together, he was still a friend—and she had grown to…

Theresa didn't even want to think about any more. But letting her hand skim the top of the headstone fondly she turned her head to look at Josef, giving him a small smile. "I'm fine." She told him indefinitely, ignoring the fact that her eyes were watering. Josef looked at her carefully, before he nodded his head, though he seemed apprehensive with believing her. She allowed him to lead her to where Meg stood, however, as they made their way toward her, she saw Alaina come their way.

She stopped where she was, seeing Alaina for the first time in what seemed to be weeks. She did not take part in the performance, letting her understudy go under her role, and she was barely seen out of her room. Theresa looked over to Josef for a moment, "I will be right with you, Josef."

Josef furrowed his brow at her and Theresa glanced over to where Alaina was, as if it was a way to excuse herself more clearly. Josef sighed deeply before he dropped his hand from her shoulder before going over to Jean, who was trying to earn Meg's attention away from her mother. Theresa turned her head to see Alaina, making her way slyly toward Henri's headstone.

Not many had showed up to Henri's funeral to pay their respects, many had gone to either service yesterday for him. The only people that had come from the Opera House were the ones that had known him the best, it seemed. Josef, Theresa, Jean, Meg and Madame Giry, along with the managers and Monsieur Reyer had come today, but she had not noticed Alaina there before then.

Theresa took a deep breath before she followed Alaina, who did not stop at all when she had decided to see her. To gain her attention as she reached the headstone, Theresa called to her, "Mademoiselle Bellerose." Alaina stopped at the sound of her voice before she turned her head to face her.

Alaina's face was blotchy, and her cheeks were swollen. Her skin was rather pale and she had looked exhausted, more so than Theresa, who looked like she hadn't slept in weeks as well. Alaina wore all black, from head to toe, as if she was mourning someone very dear to her, there was not even a spot of lightness in her clothes. Though she might have looked like she was crying, she kept her face hard and emotionless as she faced Theresa. Alaina acknowledged her stiffly, "Signora."

"How are you?" Theresa asked, unsure of what else was there to really ask. Her and Alaina would usually avoid each other. In fact, after Theresa had threatened her, they hadn't spoken to each other at all.

Alaina narrowed her eyes at her before retorting harshly, "How do I look, Signora?"

Theresa looked almost taken aback, pursing her lips together in thin line. She took a deep breath before answering her, "Not well."

Alaina chuckled harshly at her, "I'm not at all well."

"Oh…" was all that Theresa could say, feeling that the situation had quickly become awkward. She didn't know why she came to Alaina, but she did.

Alaina nodded her head and repeated back to her, "Oh."

Theresa tried to think of something to say, something that was kind and helpful. But Alaina did not seem to want it; she didn't even seem to want to talk to her at all. And could blame her? It was well known that Theresa didn't like her, as it was with Alaina not liking Theresa. Alaina cleared her throat, "Is there something that you wanted to say to me, Signora?"

"There is no need to call me Signora, Alaina." Theresa said to her slowly, thinking that the formality was a way to get under her skin. They were both the same person now, she was not above Alaina and she was offering something on the lines of friendship. "And… and I know that you and Henri were close," Alaina didn't refrain from hiding her scoff. Theresa chose to ignore it so she could continue, "So if you need someone to talk to—."

"I do not need your ear to talk to, _Theresa_." Alaina said with an irritated sneer on her face. She said her name as if it was venom on her tongue, so repulsive that she felt filthy saying it. "You do not need to offer it to me."

"But I want to." Theresa added to her with a furrowed brow. "I may be the only person in the Opera House that knows what you—."

"I'm sorry?" Alaina started to her, taking several steps toward her as if she was confused "Do you really _think_ that we are remotely alike? Or that you know about my relationship with Henri?"

Theresa swallowed, "I am… I am only offering someone to talk to, Alaina."

"Well, I do not want to talk to the woman that had him and ruined him." Alaina said to her coldly. Theresa's shoulders fell as she watched Alaina's body tremble in front of her. She shook her head at her before adding, "I will be frank, Theresa, I was in love with a man who had his eyes for another, who seemed too oblivious to notice that he had eyes for her and only her and it ruined him, and _I_ had to watch. So… do not try to know what I am going through, Theresa, because you do not."

Theresa did not know what to really say to the woman. Her and Alaina merely just watched each other as Theresa was processing what was said. "If you now excuse me," Alaina said to her. Theresa saw her mock a curtsy before turning on her heel and heading to the headstone to say her goodbyes. Theresa picked up her head; feeling her chest knit together tightly, she thought it over. That… she should have never allowed her feet to carry her towards Alaina, that much was certain.

She took a deep breath to ease her nerves before turning on her heel. "Theresa," Jean called to her from where he was. Theresa gave him a slight smile before she decided to walk over to him, Meg, and Josef. Meg did seem uncomfortable standing beside Jean. Jean gave Theresa a long, saddened look before opening his arms out to her for her to go into. Theresa stopped next Josef, folding her hands in front of her and looking at him apprehensively. "Come here."

Theresa looked around herself before shaking her head no. "Jean, I'd rather not." Jean stared at her, his arms still being out, but soon he nodded to her, dropping them and looking over at Meg, who seemed to try and avoid his gaze. They hadn't been talking at all since that night, Theresa knew. Meg avoided Jean like the plague and when they did talk, they were always in company.

"Meg, Josef, and I were thinking about going to a lunch…" Jean started to Theresa slowly, his hands going into his pockets. Meg didn't perk up as she would usually when Jean said her name. "Would you like to come with us? We… we would like you to very much."

"I don't know, Jean," Theresa answered him. "I came with Julian and I don't know if I should."

"Chef Dupant already left with my mother and the managers." Meg told her. "It would be alright. Jean has found a small café in this town. It could take our mind off of things."

"Yes, please come." Jean added after her with a hopeful smile. "We'd like it very much."

Theresa gulped before looking at them all, knitting her brow and she saw how Meg and Josef nodded after Jean. They had not been to lunch together for so long. It would be a nice change… After a moment's thought, Theresa found herself nodding to them. "Alright then."

* * *

_**I am so sorry for the lateness of this update. I know, I've been way too into my Loki/OC fic rather than this one, and that's really the reason why, but now I have a good sense of where I'm going with this story and am done (for now) with college, I'll be updating more frequently… hopefully. I know that Erik wasn't in this chapter, but he'll be in the next, promise, and I also wanted to give Josef a bit of a part now—and Alaina is going to be a key player in the sequel, trust me.**_

_**Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! And see you next time :)**_


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